


Overload

by youngandbitchy



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Actor Tom Hiddleston, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Anxiety Disorder, Asperger Syndrome, Autism Spectrum, Comfort/Angst, Depression, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy Ending, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Protective Tom Hiddleston, Reader-Insert, References to Depression, Romantic Fluff, Self-Insert, Sensory Overload, Tom Hiddleston Feels, Tom Hiddleston Is A Sweetheart, Triggers, Tumblr: young-and-bitchy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 23:13:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16922271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youngandbitchy/pseuds/youngandbitchy
Summary: You find out you have Asperger and Tom is a very supportive boyfriend.(Please, do not read this story if you're triggered by any of the tags listed above).





	Overload

You still remember the day you were diagnosed. Your mother was crying her heart out to your psychiatrist, while you sat there, hoping your emotions to make a decision on how you were feeling.    

And you still remember when you told your boyfriend, Tom. You were in the kitchen, Tom feeding the dog the leftovers as you stood in front of the sink, washing the dishes. This was major, so it wasn’t something you could hide from him. After all, he was your best friend, and he knew you too well.     

You closed the tap and you dropped the bomb. “I have Asperger.”     

Tom dropped the plate, but it didn’t break. “What?” He asked, giving you his attention.     

He stood, going to where you were; but you’d opened the tap, washing again. “You heard me.”     

“I’m sorry, love, but I’m going to need a lot more than **I have Asperger** to understand.”     

“It’s a disorder from the autistic spectrum and…”     

“Yeah, I know what it is.” He closed the tap. “I mean, how did you find out?”     

You sighed, grabbing a towel from the kitchen and drying your hands, not facing him as you spoke. “You know I go to a therapist.”     

“Yeah.”     

“Well, they suggested that, maybe… I had it, and… I went to a psychiatrist with my mom, and…”     

“Was that today?” You nodded. “And… how are you?”     

You sighed. “I mean, I knew something didn’t fit, but… if I was a wreck before, adding Asperger’s to the mix, it’s just…”     

“Hey, c’mon. You’re being too hard on yourself.” Tom made you face him, and your eyes had watered. “You’ll get through this.”     

“This isn’t something you get through, Tom. Asperger is here to stay.”     

“I’m aware. I mean you’ll get through the phase of feeling like a gigantic mess.”   

You didn’t worry about Tom leaving you. He was the kindest person you knew, and you could see in the little things (and in the big gestures) that he wasn’t going anywhere.     

It was you and him against the world.     

You nodded, placing a hand in his wrist, which is what you did when you wanted a hug. “C’mere,” he said.     He wrapped his arms around you, you melting into his embrace.

  
Fast forward to a few months later, you were lying on the bed. Your anxiety and depression were off the charts, and Tom wasn’t home.     

You should’ve known going to social media wasn’t a good idea. Tom wasn’t very open about your autism, but his fans knew; and still, they went out of their way to mock you or insult you. They’d blame you for being the reason Tom didn’t go to Cons, they’d blame you for Tom’s friendships deteriorating.   

And you just wanted to yell at them. Yell at them and explain why you acted the way you did… but they already knew.     

You were clenching your fists, your entire body was shaking… It was so cold.     

“Love,” you heard Tom mumbled and you got startled.     

You were facing the window of the bedroom, covered with the blanket to your chin. Tom didn’t crawl into the bed with you; instead, he pulled up a chair from the corner of the bedroom and sat in front of you. He knew not to touch you during these moments because it could contribute to your sensory overload, and he didn’t want to cause you distress.     

“Hello, love.”     

You didn’t look at him. You covered yourself up to your head, not allowing him to see you.     

He stayed quiet, looking at you. It broke his heart to see you this way. The reasons would vary: you had a bad day, you woke up like this, you heard something on TV, you read something you shouldn’t have… but he was there nonetheless. He’d damn himself if he wasn’t.     

It’d been a while since Tom last spoke, so you’d figured he’d gone to the kitchen. You lowered the blanket… and he was still there, looking at you.

“You’re still here,” you whispered.     

“Not going anywhere.”     

“What if you have to pee?”    

“I’ll hold it.”     

Tom heard you sigh and you stretched your hand towards him. You wanted him to hold your hand, so he did. It made you feel better: feeling his thumb rubbing against your palm. It calmed you down.     

You sat on the bed a few minutes later, still holding his hand. “You want to talk about it?” You didn’t want to drop this on Tom, but your psychiatrist did say talking about it could help. Damn, Tom had even met with him a few times. “If you want to, you can tell me.”     

It’s like he could read your mind.    

“Your fans hate me,” you murmured.     

“What?” He asked, frowning.     

“They blame me because you don’t go to Cons, because you… you don’t hang out with the cast anymore, and… stuff like that.”     

Tom snorted, lying back in the chair. “I can’t believe this.”     

“I’m sorry.”     

“Don’t apologise. None of this is your fault.”     

“Isn’t it, though?”     

“What? No.” Tom got up from the chair and sat in front of you, you wrap your arms around your legs, your knees touching your chin. “Listen… I decided to be with you, to stay with you because I love you. You are the most important person in my life, and if they were really my fans they’d see how happy I am instead of speaking poorly of you.“    

“But… they’re right. You don’t go to Cons that much anymore and… if I hadn’t snapped at Chris that night, I…”     

“Chris understood, and he doesn’t mind. We talk every week! And I choose not to go. It’s not that I don’t love my fans…”     

“I know you do,” you interrupted him.     

He offered you a crooked smile. “I spend lots of time filming, auditioning, doing interviews… I want to have time for you, my family, your family, our family…”     

“Our family?”     

“Yeah. I mean, Taco is a very needy dog,” he joked and you giggled.     

“Speaking of, where is he?”     

“Peeking, waiting for me to give him the sign he can come in.”     

You got on your knees, tall enough to see the dog peeking through the door. “Mate! Hey, c’mere!”     

The dog entered running and jumped to the bed Tom and you shared, moving his head furiously and licking your hand intertwined with Tom’s. You smiled, caressing him. He eventually laid his head on your lap.     

“You are an angel, Tom Hiddleston.”     

“I disagree,” he stated, placing a hand on your cheek.     

You met halfway for a short kiss, full of love. “I love you,” you told him, very close to his face.     

“I love you too,” he replied, smiling. 

 

Tom woke you up the next morning with the excuse that he had a surprise for you. So now, he’d parked the car in front of a building. Concrete blocks, clean windows, and people working on the roof.     

“What… are we doing here?” You asked when you met him on the sidewalk.     

“You’ll see,” Tom replied when someone called for him.     

“Mr. Hiddleston!” the woman greeted him. “I wasn’t aware you’d come by today.”  

“I actually came by to show my girlfriend the place. (Y/N), this is Emma, the contractor.”     

She stretched her hand towards you and you took it, still very lost. “It’s great to meet you. Mr. Hiddleston doesn’t shut up about you.”     

The comment made you smile and Tom laughed. “How are things going?”     

“At this pace, we should have this place running in a month and a half.”     

Tom nodded. “I like that, but can we have more people and have it running in a month?”     

Emma shrugged. “You’re the boss, Mr. Hiddleston; I just deliver.”     

“Well, then let’s have it that way.”     

Emma nodded. “Very well. It was nice to meet you, (Y/N).”     

You nodded. “You too.” When Emma walked away to enter the building, you turned to Tom. “You’re the boss? What is this?” You inquired.     

Tom smiled, wrapping an arm around your waist. You didn’t mind. “When you told me about your autism, I’ll be honest… I wasn’t very educated on the topic, so I made it my mission to be an expert.”     

“And I appreciate that,” you said, smiling like a fool in love, “but… what does that have to do with this?”     

“Well, dear, this… this will be a treatment center for autistic people,” he confessed, looking at you. Your jaw dropped. “We’ll have therapists, psychiatrists, teachers, nurses…”  

Your eyes began to fill with tears. “You’re joking.”     

“Not at all, love. Welcome to the (Y/L/N) Treatment Center.”     

The flood started. Listening to those words next to your last name made you emotional. Tom had bought a building and gotten people to work to start a center with your name, dedicated to help those with disorders in the autistic spectrum.  

Help those that were like you.     

“Don’t cry! Don’t cry! I didn’t mean to make you cry!”     

“Liar!” You responded, hugging him tight and then proceeding to kiss him several times on the lips, sneaking a few »I love you«’s in between. You sniffled when you separated from him, wiping away your tears. You could see Tom’s eyes had reddened. “When? Ho… How?”     

“After you told me, I did my research and… read so many stories that really angered me, and… I’ve been working on it ever since, which is why—”

“You haven’t gone to many Cons.”     

“Yep,” he nodded, “and I know you’ve had your fair share with pain over this, but maybe… if you can help people like you…”     

“What? Me?”     

He nodded. “If you want to, of course. I don’t… want to pressure you or anything…”     

You shut him up with a kiss, and you thought to yourself:  _God forbid me from ever letting this man go._

He gazed deeply into your eyes. “Tell me everything, angel,” you requested.

“Well…” He held your hand smiling, leading you into the building, “…we’re working on insurance coverage and…”    


End file.
